


Heaven

by Happily Alive (yutaspoto)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Heaven, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mental Instability, Not Beta Read, Painting, vague plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutaspoto/pseuds/Happily%20Alive
Summary: He was wrong to hate the past, wrong to dream of this, to crave of this. At that moment his eyes overflowed with tears of joy and relief. He would see his loved ones once again and this time he would lose his devotion to purity and give in to sin.
Relationships: Jung Sungchan/Osaki Shotaro, Sungchan/Shotaro
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taki/gifts).



> If there is any tag that I have missed and should as a warning, please tell me. I would just like to thank my friend,Taki, for bring this work to its final form.

There was so much going around him. His surroundings were too loud and too vivid to think about anything. He tried to press on, tried to make some form of progress as he stared at the blank canvas. Nothing came to mind, the flow of creativity stopping abruptly. He needs to do this He wants to escape as soon as possible, to leave the deafeningly quiet room and the sight of the painfully white walls.

_Please let me leave. I need to._

His throat too tight to let any word through or any sound escape. Averting his eyes away from the canvas became so painful at that moment, the strikingly bright light overlooking the room eating away at his vision. His lungs tightening as his throat closes, the tubes sending oxygen to his fingertips that were meant to guide the brush across the canvas too narrow to let anything through. Just breath All he has to do is paint, let the brush touch the canvas but his body refused to do so. His joints rigid, his mind too numb to control his limbs. It was as though he was cuffed in place by heavy chains made from lead. 

Everything from his soul to his senses rendered immobile. Isn't this what he wanted; to spend time painting, to have enough time to execute his ideas precisely on a canvas? This was his heaven. This is what he had longed for. 

This is what he claimed he needed; silence and time. 

Realisation dawned on him as he remembered; _I wanted this, I needed this._ His eyes burned as tears started to well up in his bloodshot eyes and he let them flow. Each tear staining his cheeks and burning into his skin like acid. Regret etched away at the skin, seeping through the surface slowly make its way to his heart. 

This was his dream, his fantasy. The activity he would fantasise about before reality would cut through him like a newly sharpened knife. This was the bandage to the wounds reality had caused when it cut too deep 

_You dreamed of this._

_You craved this_

_You yearned for this, and this is how you behave when your wish has come true?_

The silence in this room had become too overbearing for him. He needs to hear something. It didn't matter what it was; whether it was the sweet melodic notes of a piano or the laughter of a young child yet to experience pain. This room had altered his mind and the things he hated were now what he longed for The struggle of having to work multiple jobs was a reality he wished to return to now. 

The screams and cries of his siblings were now the sound needed to hear. The nights spent starving and studying were something he needed to go through again. But he cannot remember. Every aspect of his past life, whether it was sickeningly joyful or painfully unbearable had been on replay.

He wanted to escape to his past, to before he was known as the King's painter. When he was still young and daring, living on the brink of death. He yearns to return. He remembers when he took solace in silence as so to escape the internal war that had waged on since he was able to form opinions. Now the silence hurts him too, making every stab and every gunshot sharper and more real. 

Every scream sounding more painful, more close. 

Please stop. Too weak to fight the urge, the need to rip out his insides grows. Too weak to continue like this, he's too broken down. "Please just let me leave," he says, the harsh pain in his throat making it sound more like a whisper.

"Now why would I let you leave after I have given you so much? You should be grateful that someone was able to grant you your wish," a voice says. 

_How long had he been here, silently watch me suffer, losing my sanity to complete silence?_

This man was the reason for his pain, his loss of sanity. He had turned his heaven into an inescapable hell. He was the reason his thoughts were masked with the desire for something he once had. Shotaro was the man who had destroyed his passion for painting, he was the reason why every stroke was filled with hatred, why every pigment too vibrant was too vibrant. He had lost his flow of creativity, he no longer saw the world in his perspective but rather through the perspective of one who had lost their passion to a monster. 

"I no longer have anything to look forward to. You have taken everything from me. Whatever makes you think you have given me anything.? I have nothing left because of you!", he yells out, his throat no longer too narrow to let any words out. He hates him. He wants him to suffer the way he did, for pools of sanity to flow out of him like water as he punctured his body with blades of hatred. 

Sungchan had put his faith and trust in this man, he wasn't one to trust so easily but Shotaro had promised him a paradise so grand who was he to reject it? It irked how the same man he loved was feeding off his misery.

"Have you painted anything yet? It would be a waste if you didn't use the tools I bought you." 

Shotaro had completely brushed off his outburst. It was as if the Japanese were expecting him to scream, shout do anything to make his anger known. 

Slowly letting his mind regain control of his body, Sungchan tried standing up but his legs betrayed him. He was now on all fours, crawling towards the angelic-looking boy. The image of him crawling like a child etched into his mind, embarrassment slowing burning his nerves. His body was shaking, hunger and sleepless nights catching up to him. Trembling fingers clinging on to his left pant leg. 

"Please let me leave. I'll do anything for you." His pleading barely reaching the volume of a whisper. The silence had gotten to him. He wanted to return to the darkness, back to reality. he wanted to return to his hell, his version of heaven was too much for him to handle. The man towering over him remind silent, thinking whether he should lead the boy on and destroy him later or simply let him go. He wouldn't be let go of him, Sungchan was aware that his chances of freedom were too far from his reach, but he liked to see him beg; to cry for something he had hated in the beginning but had grown to love as his grip on stability had loosened. 

"I'll let you leave but only if you promise to come back", the elder spoke, voice laced with a sadness of some sort. The Korean craned his neck to meet the eyes of the elder. He looked like an angel with the halo of light surrounding him, he looked like one who caused hope to bloom once again in the hearts of those broken by despair. 

He had saved himself from the fate of staying in this heaven. He would return to hell, the place was he was tortured, the place where he had felt the thorns of discomfort poke at him repeatedly. He would run past the blinding gates of heaven to return to the of hostility he was familiar with. He was wrong to hate the past, wrong to dream of this, to crave of this. At that moment his eyes overflowed with tears of joy and relief. He would see his loved ones once again and this time he would lose his devotion to purity and give in to sin. 

**Author's Note:**

> All criticism is greatly appreciated.Tell me your thoughts in the comments or [yutaspoto](https://curiouscat.me/yutaspoto) on Curious Cat.You can also find me on Twitter [yutaspoto](https://twitter.com/yutaspoto?s=20)


End file.
